


The Life and Times of Phaedra De Sardet.

by BethTheHuman



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Ever - Freeform, F/M, I do not know how to tag this - Freeform, My First AO3 Post, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Pet, Pregnancy, Vasco is a loving and supportive husband, feel free to suggest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethTheHuman/pseuds/BethTheHuman
Summary: First ever post, don't know what I'm doing lol. Idk if this happens ingame as I have not yet finished, but I kinda wanted to see how my de Sardet would deal with the grief of her mother dying. I know the house layout does not do this but its a stupid fuckin layout so I changed it.Enjoy, or don't. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. "I name thee Princess De Sardet."

“Captain Vasco,” Lady Phaedra De Sardet’s voice, usually so strong and commanding, shook minutely as she called her faithful Naut to her side. He eyed her uncertainly, taking in her slight trembling, and the open luxurious creamy envelope bearing the crest of the Prince d’Orsay in her slender hands. By the expansive windows, Constantin droned on, surrounded by his court. Some, like the newest arrivals from the Merchant Congregation, were sycophants, while others, like Lady Morange, were wily and cunning. Among them stood Kurt, Siora, Aphra, and Petrus, captured in the social eddies of Constantin’s court, unable to get free without causing offence. Phaedra, on the other hand, stood apart from her cousin, content to let his flamboyance cast a shade over her dealings on Teer Fradee.

“Yes, my Lady?” In public, Vasco was every inch the honest Naut-in-service; no one could accuse him of overstepping his boundaries. In private was a different matter. His yellow eyes searched her grey ones, trying to discern why she had called him over. He was alarmed to see unshed tears, and deep, unguarded grief.

“Get de Courcillon,” She choked out, turning away from him to quietly collapse into a chair. He moved in front of her, anxious to shield her from prying eyes, but she waved him away. “De Courcillon, please, Vasco.” He did as he was bid, extricating the older man from the press of bodies surrounding Constantin and bringing him back to where his lover sat slumped under a painting in a comparatively gloomy corner.

“My dear, whatever is the matter? You look terribly pale,” De Courcillon took her hand. Vasco stood between them and prying eyes, ears pricked for her answer.

“Mother is dead,” De Sardet murmured, her voice nearly cracking, “Uncle sent me this letter two months ago. She died in her sleep, three months after we left Serene. He sent me her seal, and says I may assume her title,” Her full mouth twisted, an ugly expression on one so fair, “I am now Princess De Sardet.”

“Oh, my dear,” De Courcillon’s tone was warm and paternal, “I cannot express the depth of my sorrow at this. Let Vasco and I escort you home; I will instruct all Congregation business be directed to my office for the next week or so. We shall say you have come down with an island illness, I know how you detest false sympathy.” De Courcillon caught Vasco’s eye and gave him a significant look; the Naut responded with a barely perceptible nod. De Courcillon was one of the few people other than their travelling companions who had been entrusted with the knowledge of Phaedra’s dalliance with the Naut, and Vasco knew de Courcillon was entrusting him with her safety and wellbeing during her false illness.

“Ahem, Your Majesty,” De Courcillon’s voice carried easily over the noise of courtiers, jostling for Constantin’s attention like hungry ducks waiting for bread, “Your cousin is unwell. I will be escorting her to her residence. I will be taking Captain Vasco also, as he has knowledge of our Legate’s current business.” Without waiting for an answer from the foppish Prince, de Courcillon offered his arm to the Legate; she took it with grace, every inch the Merchant Princess. He laid a hand over hers in the crook of his elbow, while Vasco followed at a respectable distance, far enough back to be proper, close enough to leap to her defence should it be needed.

Of course, in the middle of her city, it was not needed. The combination of de Sardet’s own status as Legate of the Congregation and de Courcillon’s occasional quiet, ‘ho there, the Legate is unwell, please move aside,’ ‘My good man, our Legate has taken ill, I am escorting her home,’ to those who barred their path led to them reaching the door of de Sardet’s residence in near-record time. Vasco took the keys to the slender townhouse from de Courcillon, going ahead of the pair to direct the two most trustworthy servants to prepare a light meal for the Legate and to stoke the fires. He dismissed the rest to the Native merchant with a list of medicinal herbs and an order to stay away from the residence until their mistress recovered.

So it was that Vasco found himself eating much earlier than usual in de Sardet’s frankly enormous – and slightly intimidating, he privately reflected – dining room. The servant who had taken charge of the food was in fact de Sardet’s childhood nurse and tutor, a stout woman in her sixties by the name of Emilie who secretly terrified Vasco, for she had threatened him once with a rolling pin after finding him in Phaedra’s bed one day, and he had never truly gotten over the fear.

“’Ere now pet, I’ve done you some soup,” She bustled in and placed two bowls in front of Vasco and Phaedra, foregoing all pretences at formality to drop heavily into the chair opposite Vasco and squeeze Phaedra’s slender hand in her large, calloused ones, “And don’t you be tellin’ me you won’t eat now, pet, I know you too well for that nonsense.” Phaedra smiled tremulously at the older woman, tears spilling onto her cheeks. Vasco gripped her forearm, trying to convey his care and devotion without words, for nothing he thought of sounded good enough.

“Phaedra, my darling, my sweet, we knew it were comin’, and she died peaceful like,” Emilie consoled the newly made princess, dabbing her tears away with a businesslike ease borne of long practise, “Eat up, pet, you’ll feel better. I’ll make you something sweet for after too, but only if you clear the bowl.” Clearly, this was a long-running joke, for Phaedra gave a watery laugh and finally reached for her spoon. Emilie was efficient but caring, chivvying Phaedra gently until the bowl was clear.

“There now, that wasn’t too hard, was it, pet?” Emilie caught Phaedra’s chin gently and pressed a motherly kiss to her forehead. “I’ll leave you two to it tonight, my sweet,” She added, shooting a glance at Vasco. He heard the frisson of disapproval that coloured her voice, of course, but he only nodded stiffly to her.

The doors behind them opened, and the second servant, a young Native woman, stepped in, bowing her head to Phaedra, “ _On ol menawi_ , I have set a fire in your rooms, they should be ready for you.”

“Thank you, Aeles, please draw the curtains, then you can have the rest of the night off with Emilie,” de Sardet murmured, a gentle but clear dismissal.

“A’right, if you need us though pet, you know where we are,” Emilie was reluctant to leave her charge but did as she was bid, taking the bowls and hustling Aeles away as they returned to their cosey suites in the basement.

“Vasco,” Phaedra whispered, reaching for him as desperately as a Naut would reach for a thrown rope in a storm.

“Yes, my Tempest,” Vasco took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “Can I do anything for you?” Phaedra choked back a sob, and his heart broke in two.

“Take me to bed Vasco, and help me forget.”


	2. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phaedra gets a pet and something more.

“Tempest, I believe Dunncas wants to come to New Serene,” Vasco said by way of greeting, pushing the note from the High King’s Congregation attaché across their breakfast table, along with Phaedra de Sardet’s customary peppermint tea. His wife groaned into her tea cup at the sight of the closed envelope and its wax seal.

“Just one day without a diplomatic incident, please, _en on míl frichtamen_ ,” Phaedra groaned into her hands. Vasco chuckled as he knelt before her, pressing soft kisses to her knuckles and pushing her snow-white hair out of her face.

“Do you want me to read it first?” He picked up the note. Phaedra nodded as she poured more tea. “It says here that they want to give you a gift, Tempest,” He held the note out for her to read, “Do you want me to rub your ankles while you affirm that Ambassador Carlotta has not grievously insulted the Fradeer High King?” Vasco teased, his fingers already sliding the slippers off her feet.

“Please, dear, they are _very_ swollen,” Phaedra sighed with relief as Vasco’s slender calloused fingers expertly dug into the swollen joint, relieving the dull ache, pressing hard enough that it was just shy of painful. She eyed her handsome Naut husband as he worked, taking in the new broadcloth jacket, heavily starched, the blindingly white neckcloth, the freshly dyed trousers, a sumptuous midnight blue, and Phaedra knew they would soon be parted.

“When do you sail?” She whispered. Vasco looked up at her, not pausing in his work, and pressed a feather light to the inside of her knee.

“The Admiral gives me my orders today, Tempest,” His voice cracked minutely on the last word, “I expect I shall sail next week, if I have a fair wind.” Phaedra shifted her other ankle into his lap. “Better, my love?”

“Much. Thank you, Vasco,” Phaedra murmured, letting her head fall back as she enjoyed her husband’s ministrations.

“I will find you at the Governor’s Palace after my meeting with Admiral Cabral, Tempest,” Vasco sighed as he finished on her other ankle. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tiny bump below his wife’s navel. “And you, little fish, behave today. I don’t want to hear any more of you making our Acting Governor sick.” Phaedra’s stomach gurgled loudly, and Vasco snorted in unrestrained amusement. Phaedra eyed him with a mixture of amusement and irritation as she pulled the bellrope for servants to come and lay up breakfast.

“Your son is hungry, Captain Vasco,” She smirked at him as Emilie and Aeles brought food into their breakfast room, followed by Kurt, still slightly rumpled from sleep.

“My _daughter_ is making her feelings known, loudly and often, just as her mother does,” He retorted, nimbly dodging the knife Phaedra threw at him in mock anger. Aeles giggled, Emilie rolled her eyes indulgently, and Kurt coughed delicately into a napkin.

“Green Blood, if you could try to refrain from throwing weapons while I try to eat my eggs, I would be eternally grateful.” Phaedra rolled her eyes, but desisted, and breakfast was thankfully a tidy, quiet affair, with no more knives being thrown.

~

“Sir de Courcillon, what is on our agenda today?” Phaedra asked as she took a seat on the Governor’s throne. Kurt took his place at her shoulder, attentive as ever, but not without giving her hand a quick brotherly squeeze.

“You have visitors from the Natives.” De Courcillon looked up from his small desk beside her throne, his brow furrowed. “I apologise, Governor, but this note uses many Fradeer words I am not familiar with.”

“Let me, please,” She held a slender hand out for the parchment, scanning over its contents. “Well, that _is_ a surprise,” She murmured to herself. Then to her loyal former teacher; “Sir de Courcillon, please postpone all my appointments today, this takes precedence. They will be along presently, please send down to the kitchens for tea and cold food. Kurt, be a dear and open the terrace for us to use?” He threw the floor to ceiling glass doors open as she added, “And bring the nice benches out too!”

“Governor, the Natives are here,” A footman announced, followed a few moments later by Sir de Courcillon and said Natives. Phaedra waved at them slightly helplessly, gesturing them to the terrace as Sir de Courcillon made his way over and gallantly offered his arm as she struggled to stand.

“I am going to be a whale at the end of this, I swear,” Phaedra groused, both hands protectively covering her middle as he led to her bench, drenched in morning sunlight. He scoffed and shook his head, but said nothing more; previous arguments regarding her figure, her weight, her flexibility, and the possibility she might not be able to shoot a gun mid-cartwheel after she gave birth had already been extensively discussed. Phaedra eyed the figures standing by the low benches in the sunlight, appraising each one individually: Síora, in full _doneigad_ attire, with a powerful talisman on her chest, and more vines in her hair than the last time Phaedra had seen her; Eseld, wearing a mixture of Fradeer and Congregation clothing, bearing the amulet of the _mal_ around her throat and two simple angular streaks of ochre face paint under her sharp cheekbones; Manfred, Eseld’s surprising _minundhanem_ , foregoing the seats and standing behind his Native Queen, also wearing mixed clothing and the angular face paint; High King Dunncas, resplendent in his Native King finery, with the ancient gnarled crown on his brow; finally, and most surprisingly, Mev, the _tierna harh cadachtas_ of the island, who had not changed at all since Phaedra had last seen her.

“ _On ol menawi, renaigse_ Governor,” Dunncas inclined his head formally, before stepping forward to greet her in the Native way, with clasped forearms and pressed foreheads. “Are you well, _on ol menawi?_ You look pale.”

“I have always been pale, Dunncas,” Phaedra laughed, indicating they should sit. Kurt remained standing, ready to assist her as servants began to file onto the terrace and lay up boards of charcuterie and pots of sweet tea.

“ _Carants,_ we have brought you a gift,” Síora said in her pleasant burr. Manfred and Kurt exchanged smug glances; Phaedra’s interest was immediately piqued. “Before we show it to you, Dunncas and Mev wish to do some _doneigada_ practise for you, to make sure you and the _lenab_ are well.” Phaedra groaned, but allowed the two healers access to her belly. The warm, slightly ticklish sensation of Native magic spread across her belly as the two healers began to explore the life growing inside her.

“You look well _,”_ Mev pulled her hands back from Phaedra’s belly, “But _on ol menawi,_ did you know you have twins?” Phaedra stared stare in numb shock, her hands creeping back over her belly as she stared in Mev’s eyes. The _tierna narh cadachtas_ chuckled throatily and stood up. “I take that as a no, _on ol menawi._ We will give you your gift now.” Kurt’s hand clapped on her shoulder, grounding her and jerking her back to alertness; she watched curiously as Mev and Dunncas retreated back inside the throne room and out of sight. Eseld and Síora grinned at each other, Manfred winked at Kurt; Phaedra began to feel her friends were in on a joke at her expense.

“Manfred if you don’t tell me _right now_ –” She began hotly, but was cut off by Kurt wrapping his hands around her eyes without warning. She heard Mev speak in Fradeer, too fast for Phaedra to keep up.

“Kurt you traitor!” She seethed, grasping ineffectually at his leather gloves, “Unhand me!” Her guard gave a husky chuckle but did not move, and she was unable to peel his hands from her eyes.

“Hush now, Green Blood, you’ll see in just a moment,” With that, a warm, wriggly, furry ball of _something_ was dropped in her lap. Kurt removed his hands, and Phaedra looked down.

“Is this … a _puppy?!”_ She squealed, lifting the small animal. “Oh, what big shoulders you have!” Her companions watched, their expressions ranging from fondness to deep amusement.

“When a _doneigad_ comes of age on this island, they may choose to bond wit’ an animal, more closely than with others,” Dunncas explained, his broad face split into a smile, “Mev has her _lewolans,_ I have my birds. I t’ink a _vaileg_ is a good companion for you, _on ol menawi._ ”

“A _vaileg?_ One of those giant wolf-bear … things?” Phaedra’s eyes flicked from face to face, searching for the joke.

“The ones that look more like large wolves, Green Blood. I believe _ulgs_ are the truly giant ones you’re referring to.” Kurt answered for Dunncas, who nodded sagely.

“Our companion _ulgs_ and _vailegs_ are not unlike their wild brothers and sisters, _on ol menawi,_ but they are better tempered. She comes from Wenshaveye _,_ from Breg and her _matir,_ as t’anks for freeing Breg.” Phaedra nodded, remembering the blonde Native girl in Continental dress, who had become the ill-fated Franz’s lover. She blinked away tears, suddenly melancholy in her remembering, and cuddled the small pup. She realised what Dunncas had said was true; there _was_ a difference between this and those _vailegs_ she had met in the wild, and not just in size. The limbs seemed finer, and the fur was slightly shorter. She was paler than a wild _vaileg_ too, her coat more of a golden honey brown than the chestnut, russet, and black colourings of her wild relatives. Yes, she would do very well.

“Do Islanders give their companion animals names, Dunncas?”

“T’ey sometimes do _._ It is not common, but you are not a common _on ol menawi.”_ He shrugged and finished his tea, turning his attention to the platter of dried meat a servant presented to him.

“I think I’ll call you Arelwin,” Phaedra murmured, tickling the pup’s stomach. She yipped once, as if in confirmation, curled up around Phaedra’s belly, and immediately fell asleep.

“She likes you, _carants,_ ” Síora smiled at the Governor.

~

“You’re late, husband,” Phaedra mumbled, only blearily aware of Vasco shucking his coat and sliding into bed behind her.

“Our dearest Admiral took a long time,” He grumbled, “Though she was very concerned about your condition, and sends her best wishes.” He slung a careful arm over Phaedra’s hip, resting his hand on her small bump. “How was your day, Governor?” He teased, his warm breath feathering the back of his wife’s neck.

“I got a wolf for a pet,” She yawned, gesturing vaguely to the foot of the bed where Arelwin was daintily curled up on Phaedra’s feet. “And also, Mev says we’re having twins.”

“Excuse me, did you say _twins_?”


End file.
